They All Think They Can Save Me
by kdross42
Summary: The last time we saw Shae her world was tumbling down.  Carter is dead, and now someone will have to pay.  Everyone's beliefs will be put to the test when Shae teams up with Robin Hood's gang, joining forces to try to defeat the Sheriff and Gisbourne.
1. Numb

Numb. I was numb. I went through the motions of life; breathing, eating, drinking, but I felt nothing. I was nothing. Carter was gone. I was alone, untethered from reality, nothing to live for. And someone was going to pay.

People treated me differently now. No one would meet my eyes directly when I walked by, they suddenly became extremely fascinated with the ground in front of their feet. Whispers followed me everywhere, clinging to me like my shadow. It was enough to drive a person crazy.

Two days after Carter's death another courier entered my tent with a message from the King. When I entered his tent, in a much more dignified mammal this time, I found the King seated near a small table.

"Please, sit," he said, motioning to the chair opposite his with his good arm. The other arm was still bound tightly to his body in a sling. I followed his orders automatically, lowering my body into the wooden chair. King Richard took a deep breath.

"You're not healthy," he began, wasting no time at all.

"Sire-" I interrupted.

"Let me finish. Yes, you're eating, and physically you're as fit as ever. But, mentally…" he trailed off uneasily.

"I'm fine." Numb. The King sighed, running his hand through his hair.

"You're not. You've lost something very important to you. You shouldn't be fine. No one expects that of you. But you need to talk to somebody. Do not block these feeling out, they're nothing to be ashamed of. It's natural that you feel-"

"Fine," I repeated. "I feel fine. I am fine."

"What can I do?" He implored. "What do you need to get you through this?"

"Tell me who did it," I said firmly. "I need to know who killed him."

"That won't make anything better," he said gently.

"It will," I argued. King Richard shook his head. "_I_ _need to know_."

"I know what you're thinking. But it's not a possibility. He's already gone."

"Gone where?"

"Back to England. He is a man of power, Shae, it won't even be possible, and if you did manage it there would be dire consequences," he warned.

"I don't care," I said honestly. "Who is he?"

"I do not want you to leave," the king said frankly. "I value your skills and view you as a friend. But-" he cut off the protest forming on my lips. "I will understand if this is what you need to do. Ask yourself, though, if this is what Carter would want you to do. He was a good man, and I will miss him too. But as hard as it is, he would have wanted you to be happy, to move on."

"You don't _know_ that!" I shouted. "No one can _know _that! Because Carter is dead. He is gone, and he's not coming back. Ever. And I need to do this."

King Richard didn't speak for a minute, weighing his next words carefully.

"There is a boat," he said finally. "Leaving from Acre. Tonight. I think you should be on it."

"A boat to England?" I pressed. He nodded.

"I think you will find what you need there."

"Thank you, sire," I said, relief slipping into my voice. I had a mission now. Something to focus on. A goal.

"Now, I cannot officially endorse what you are doing," he warned. A smirl spread across my face. I had heard that before. "However, I do release you from your service to me, and give you my permission to leave the Holy Lands. Do what you need to do, and then come back to us, Shae." I nodded, for his benefit, but I had no intention of making it to that point.

"You should start preparing to leave. It's a long ride to Acre."

"Sire," I asked one last time. "Who is he?"

King Richard let out a deep sigh, and there was sadness in his eyes.

"The Sheriff of Nottingham."


	2. Voyage

Packing didn't take long. Crusaders didn't keep many possessions; we were on the move too much, roaming from city to city. I had a few pairs of clothes and some extra weapons, nothing more. Everything could be easily wrapped in a sack and strapped to the back of my horse's saddle. I slipped out of the camp silently as dusk was beginning to settle in. No one would even know I was gone for a few days. I didn't have to worry about saying goodbye to anyone; there was no one left who would miss me.

The ride to Acre took a couple of hours at a well-paced gallop. The roads were mostly clear of travelers, so I only had to bushwhack twice along the way to avoid being seen. As King Richard had promised, there was a sea vessel waiting in the harbor. I removed my bundle from my horse and strapped it to my back before nudging the stallion on his way. I hoped a kind person would find and claim him, because he was a good horse, but I didn't think that even I could smuggle him onto the boat unseen.

I circled the boat on foot a few times, wrapping myself in the shadows and darkness, taking in the number and position of guards, planning how I would make my way onto the ship in secret, and the path I would take once I was onboard. Once I had a plan, and a backup plan, and a second backup plan, and a third, I made my way into position.

The guard patrolling the stern of the boat turned his back to the sea for an instant. After all, who would approach from that direction besides another boat? I would. I scuttled down the beam supporting the end of the dock, eased myself into the cool water without making a splash and then floated over to the boat. The first available handhold was high above the water, and difficult to reach, but I was the best, and nothing could stop me once I had a plan. I made my way up the side of the boat to the lower level, and then hung by my arms to swing to the side of the boat, where there was a decent sized porthole, which I shimmied into. It took only a moment for my eyes to adjust to the enveloping darkness, and once they did I saw that I was in a food store room. I couldn't stay here; it would be a very popular place a few days into the voyage, so I cracked the door open just enough to slip out, and made my way into the hallway, locating the stairs to the main deck.

The deck was full of people running around, getting ready to launch, but no one saw me. My feet made no sound as I prowled along the gunwale, staying low to the ground, my dark clothing blending me into the night. It took some time, but I eventually found myself at the bow, where there was a pile of boxes against the prow. I slid one of the boxes over as quietly as I could, creating a small space that I wedged my body into, curling into a ball and covering my body with my still damp cloak. A few minutes later I felt the boat lurch into motion, starting to rock on the sea. I curled up tighter, closing my eyes, confident in my hiding place, and drifted off to sleep.

The voyage took a while. I lost track of the days; they all blended together in my cramped space. Every night I would venture out onto the deck, sneak into the food stores and steal just enough to keep my strength up without causing suspicion. I reveled in these short trips, stretching my limbs and feeling the wind on my face. They always ended too quickly, and I spent most of my time in my little cubby, thinking. I thought about Carter. It hurt, god, did it hurt, but it fed the fire of revenge that glowed in my heart, so I thought about how I would kill the sheriff. I saw it happen hundreds of ways, some from a distance, but most with a close combat in which the sheriff knew exactly who was coming for him.

After what seemed like an eternity the crew began talking excitedly about spotting land. I sighed happily to myself; I couldn't wait to get off of this ship. I still wasn't sure why Richard had sent me to this particular vessel, which was already full of passengers, but I could figure that out later. First things first, I had to get off the boat. Preferably unseen. The boat jerked suddenly, and a quick peek outside told me that we had made port. I moved out of my space quietly, not drawing attention to myself, so that even if someone saw me they wouldn't spare me a second glance. Everyone was focused intently on land, so I grabbed a hold of the rigging and heaved myself up off the ground, swinging through the mess of ropes, keeping pace with the sailors as they moved towards the gangplank. A group of men were huddled together near the boat's only exit, talking amongst themselves. I silently positioned myself so that the slight breeze carried their words to me.

"I'm not being funny," one of them said, "but shouldn't we have stayed in the Holy Land longer?"

"What? Why would we have done that?"

"Well, the King has to know that Robin's just gonna try to kill Gisbourne, and probably the sheriff too."

That caught my interest. Someone else wanted to kill the sheriff? Then it clicked. These were the other men that had been in the tent when Carter… So they, or at least this man Robin, had lost someone, too. Now I knew why the king had sent me here.

"That's crazy. Robin has more sense than that."

"Robin's not thinking straight," the biggest man growled.

"It's a death wish!" The small one exclaimed. "They have too many men; he'll never even get close to them."

I took this as my cue, and flipped from the rope I was holding in a neat back tuck, landing lightly on my feet behind the men. All three of them spun around quickly, drawing a variety of weapons.

"I think I can help you there," I said, smirking at their shocked expressions.

"Who are you?" The little one asked, his voice cracking slightly. I drew back my hood so that they could see my face clearly, and stood up to my full height.

"I, am King Richard's personal assassin."


	3. Introductions

The men stared at me for open mouths.

"Come again?" The little on finally stuttered.

"I kill people for the King," I repeated.

"Kill, as in, dead?" He stammered.

"No, kill as in inviting them to tea," I retorted. He shut his mouth again.

"I'm not being funny," the redhead said, "But isn't that wrong?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Why?" I asked. "I kill people who would endanger the safety of our King and our country. My actions keep others safe."

"Still," he said. "That's not right."

"Listen, do you want my help or not?" I demanded. "I'm going to kill the Sheriff, with or without you. It's your choice whether you want to get your man, too."

"He's not our man," the small one objected. "Robin is the one-" he broke off, and looked around. "Where is Robin?"

"Smaller man, wearing a green hood?" I asked. The three of them nodded in unison. "He galloped off on a horse a few minutes ago." They looked at each other, and the spun around and ran over to a corral of horses. I grinned, and followed.

"You know the forest well," I said about an hour later. We had picked up Robin's trail, and now followed him through the woods at a slower pace, giving him a safe distance.

"We live here, don't we?" The redhead said, laughing.

"Some of us more than others," the small man muttered. The redhead glared and opened his mouth, but I cut him off.

"You're outlaws?" I asked. "And you said I was wrong for killing people."

"Look, we don't kill no one," the redhead objected. "We help the poor. Steal from the rich and spread their wealth so the villagers can pay their taxes."

"What do you do to the people that you steal from?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"So you let them live to keep doing exactly what they were doing before. Very effective plan."

"Haven't you heard of us?" the small man asked. I raised my eyebrows. "We are the men of the hood," he said. "Living outside the law, helping Robin save the poor."

"We are Robin Hood," the giant man growled.

"So, you're all Robin Hood?" They nodded. "Got other names as well?"

"I'm Allan a'Dale," the redhead said. "That, is Much," he gestured to the small man. "And the big man is Little John." I grinned.

"_Little_ John?" He shrugged. "Well, anyway, my name's Shaelyn. But call me Shae, or we might have a problem."

"Shae it is," Allan agreed. "So, how'd you even get here?"

"On your boat. You know, you really need to increase your security measures."

"Why did you come?" Much asked.

"King Richard sent me," I said truthfully. "I think he thought I could help you. That and-" I broke off as an image of Carter flashed through my mind. "I just needed to get away for a little," I finished. Allan's eyebrows raised, but the other two just nodded and continued on. Allan let the other men progress a few paces, dropping back to ride next to me.

"So," he said easily.

"What?" I snapped.

"Well, I'm not blind, am I? I've seen that look before. You didn't leave the Holy Land just because the King asked you to," he said knowingly.

"And?"

"And I'm just sayin', you can talk about it if you want. I'm a good listener." I didn't say anything. "Just sayin', that's all," he repeated, and kicked his horse into a trot to catch up with Much and Little John. I sighed to myself, and gave my horse a pat. I would have to work on keeping my emotions in check if he could read my expressions that easily.

I hadn't had a friend in years, someone that I could talk to openly. There was Carter, but he had been different. I couldn't remember the last time that someone had asked me to open up to them like that. As I had grown up I had learned to keep my feelings inside me, bundling them tightly and storing them far out of reach. If no one could see them, then no one could use them to hurt me.

Somewhere along the line, I had stopped feeling altogether. I guess it was necessary, with the things that I had been doing. Carter had brought some of these feelings out of me, especially after he had come back from England. He had confided in me about the death of his brother, and helping him had softened me somehow, bringing me back to humanity. But then he died.

The men were wary of me, but who could blame them. I had hidden for weeks on their boat, and then introduced myself as an assassin. Looking back, that may not have been the smartest idea. They kept glancing back at me, as if they were nervous that I would jump them from behind at any moment. I could see it in their eyes.

Except for Allan. He was different. When he looked back at me he didn't try to hide it, and his face held a mixture of concern and pity. I couldn't decide if I should be touched, or infuriated. He didn't know me, he didn't know anything about me, and yet here he was, judging me, classifying me as a sad, broken girl. Even if I was, it still wasn't fair. He didn't know me. Nobody knew me.


	4. Taken

I hung back from the group once we caught up to Robin Hood. The men had agreed that it would be better for them to introduce me after they had spoken to him and calmed him down a bit. That, however, never happened. The man had some sort of psychotic break and started yelling at his men, screaming that Robin Hood was dead and he was going to get revenge on Gisbourne. He practically knocked Little John out with his own staff when he tried to stop him. Some harsh words were thrown around, and the only thing stopping this from becoming a full out fist fight seemed to be Much and Allan's hesitance to harm Robin at all. Me, I would have knocked him over the head and tied him to a horse, but they chose to go the non-violent route, so Robin left.

"That could have gone better," I called from where I stood with the horses. They all turned to glare at me. "Just sayin'," I whispered into my horse's mane. He nickered softly in agreement.

"We have to go after him!" Much shouted.

"He's going to Locksley, we can catch him there," Allan agreed.

"Maybe this time you should hit him to make sure he doesn't run," I offered. More glares.

"Leave the horses," Little John said. I raised my eyebrows.

"We'll catch him faster on horseback," I argued.

"No, John's right," Allan agreed. "The horses attract attention, and we don't need more of that."

"Fine, then I suggest we get going," I said, and began to run in the direction Robin had gone.

I was a great runner, but apparently Robin was better, because we steadily lost ground. By the time we reached the village of Locksley it was completely empty. Allan collapsed against a fence, gasping for air, and the other two men were doubled over in similar states.

"Where is everyone?" Much managed to ask. I strained to hear anything over the sounds of their labored breathing, and finally a shout drew my attention to the flock of people storming up a nearby hill.

"There," I pointed out, and the chase was on again. I made it to the top first, which ended in a cliff that jutted out over a large river. Robin was fighting with a man dressed all in black, who had to be Gisbourne. He fell, and hit his head on a rock, and I shook my head. That was it, then. A disorienting blow like that spelled disaster in a closely matched fight. My eyes quickly took in the number of guards there were, and I knew I couldn't save him. The rest of the gang made it to where I was hiding just in time to see Gisbourne heave Robin's still body above his head and throw it over the side of the cliff.

"NO!" Much screamed, and rushed into the pack of guards, sword drawn, before any of us could react. Allan made to follow him, but Little John grabbed him and held him firmly in place.

"We have to help him," Allan argued, struggling against the woman's hold.

"Not now," John growled, glancing at me. I nodded, and together we dragged Allan into the forest as Much was arrested.

John allowed Allan to shake him off once we were far enough away to not be heard.

"We have to get Much," he said right away.

"We need to find Robin," John insisted.

"Robin's dead, John," Allan said, resigned.

"Probably," I agreed, "But he was alive when he was thrown." Allan shook his head.

"No, he wasn't moving-"

"He hit his head. Probably couldn't move for a minute after a knock that hard. It's a small chance, but he could have survived the fall."

"We go," Little John said. Allan nodded.

"All right. We look for Robin. But then we save Much."

We made our way down the hillside to the banks of the river, where we looked for any sign of Robin Hood, alive or dead. At one point Little John sent us rushing towards the water with hope, but it was only a large floating log, not a man. Allan hung his head.

"He's gone, John." Little John sighed. "We gotta think of the living now, big man," Allan reminded him gently, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Where would they have to taken Much?" I asked.

"The castle. To the dungeons," Allan said confidently.

"Let's go then."


	5. I Know

Hi everyone! I know it's been a while and I apologize, I've been pretty busy. I got accepted to veterinary school! Just in case any of you wanted to know, it's very exciting and kind of a big deal. Well, my writing has been at an all time low rate lately, so I realized the likelihood of this being a full, complete story was next to zero. I still have a bunch of ideas of things I want to happen, though, so from now on there will just be small clips of things that happen along the way. I just can't follow the whole third season in detail like I wanted to. But anyways, here's a little segment I jotted down a while ago, it would take place pretty early on in the story, maybe a week after Shae meets the gang or so. She and Allan are out in the woods alone together. ;)

"You don't know anything about me," I spat at him. He just shrugged calmly.

"I know more than you think I do," he stated nonchalantly.

"Hmph," I snorted. "I doubt it."

"I know you're not as confident as you want everyone to think. I know you didn't leave the Holy Land because the King asked you to help Robin. I know that you want to kill the Sheriff," he paused a moment, looking at me intently.  
>"I know that the Sheriff killed Carter."<p>

All of the air left my body in a rush, as if Allan had punched me in the gut instead of saying Carter's name.

"You loved him, didn't you?" Carter asked gently.

"Who else knows," I whispered numbly.

"No one. Robin might suspect you, but I don't think he's put it all together yet."

"How did you?"

Allan shrugged again. "I see things, that's all. I can tell when you're upset because you don't show any emotion at all. Usually there's something there, even when you're not showing what you really feel, but sometimes you just go completely blank. That's when I know you're hiding something big."

"What else do you know?"

"I know that you've lost someone else, too, or you've been hurt badly by someone."

A chill ran through my body, causing me to shudder.

"You don't have to tell me about it or nothing, I only told you because you asked," he said hurriedly.

"Don't tell anyone," I asked, a quiet desperation creeping into my voice.

"I won't," he promised. I had no choice but to believe him. I took a deep breath, composing myself and fixing my calm mask bask in place.

"We should head back to the camp," I said in my usual confident voice. "The gang might start to wonder where we are."

He nodded his consent, and I turned to pick up the pile of wood I had gathered. When I stood up again Allan was looking at me with a strange expression on his face.

"What now?" I demanded.

"I'm not being funny," he said, "but you've got some serious problems."

I sighed. "Don't we all."


	6. Everyone Has A Dead Brother

Ok, you're going to start seeing a theme here. I like writing about Shae and Allan. Mainly because I love Allan so much, but also because I think he's the only one can even come close to understanding her. So this is another clip of them talking alone. This one's a little heavy and has some rough content towards the end, so use discretion while reading.

"So," Allan said cheerily, "how did your brother die?"

I stopped walking. Stopped breathing.

"What did you just say to me?" I asked finally, my voice a dangerous kind of quiet. Allan remained unfazed, as always.

"Sheriff hanged mine," he said soberly. "We tried to save him, Robin and me, but we got there too late. He died thinking I didn't care about him," he trailed off, looking down at the ground.

"He didn't think that," I said immediately, without even thinking. "No matter what you did or said, he knew that you loved him. You were his family," I explained.

"Did you love your brother?" Allan asked.

"Carter lost his brother, too," I said, quickly changing the subject. "He died in the Crusades."

"I didn't ask about Carter's brother. I asked about yours."

"Carter blamed Robin, you know," I continued. "Thought that Robin ordered him into that village he was killed in and then didn't save him. That's why he came here in the first place. Wanted to kill him to get revenge."

"Shae-"

"He was wrong. Tom got cocky. Tried to be a hero. He was reckless, rushing in unprepared. Robin tried to save him, but it was too late. Then Robin tried to do right by him, telling his family that he died a hero instead of a fool. Of course, that came around to bite him in the ass."

"Shae-"

"Robin helped him somehow. Carter was different when he came back. Calmer. At peace. It drove me insane."

"Because he wasn't like you anymore?" Allan asked.

"He tried to talk to me about it, to help me like Robin helped him. But he couldn't. It's not the same."

"Shae, what happened to your brother?"

"It's not the same, no one understands," I screamed, hysteria creeping into my voice.

"Shae," Allan said, reaching out and putting a hand on my arm. I whipped around instinctively, my hand flying toward his face. He didn't even try to block it. He took the blow without flinching, even though it sent him rocking back on his heels. His hand remained on my arm, squeezing gently. All of the energy left my body in a rush, and suddenly his hand was the only thing holding me upright. He quickly took my other arm and turned me so that we were facing each other head on.

"I'm sorry," I sobbed, seeing the bruise spreading across his rough features.

"What happened to him, Shae?" He asked, firmer this time.

"He said he would come back," I cried. "He promised me that he would be okay." My body shook as tears streamed from my eyes, but Allan's grip on me never wavered.

"What happened?" He pressed.

I shook my head, not wanting to go there, incapable of reliving the day I had been blocking out for over ten years.

"Shae, you can tell me," Allan reassured me.

"He was my best friend," I wailed. "I was only eleven, and he was three years older than me, but we were inseparable. We told each other everything. All I wanted to do was be like him," I broke off, out of breath. Allan's thumbs gently massaged my arms, silently encouraging me to continue.

"We were out playing in the woods. I made him fight me using sticks as swords. He was so good, so unbelievably good, and I was just a kid. He hit me, an accident, and I yelled. Then all of a sudden we weren't alone anymore. There were three men in the woods. Soldiers. They heard me scream.

"Liam knew right away that we were in trouble, but he stayed calm for me. Brought me back to our house. Our parents were dead outside. My mother's throat has been slit, and my father had been stabbed repeatedly all across his torso. I started to cry, but Liam told me that it was going to be fine. He brought me inside, hid me in a closet."

I looked into Allan's eyes through my tears. "He promised that he would come back for me. I begged him not to go, but he said that he had to protect me, that they would be do bad things to me if they found me. Then he took my father's sword and left."

"He didn't come back," Allan said. It wasn't a question.

"I heard them fighting outside. There was so much noise. I wanted to make sure that he was all right. So I left the closet. I stood in the door and watched him fight them. And he was brilliant. He could have done it. And then one of the soldiers saw me, and said something and pointed. Liam turned around, he wanted to make sure that I was alright. He turned his back to them. And they stabbed him in the chest."

I wasn't crying anymore. My voice was steady and cold, as images from that day flashed across my eyes.

"Shae, I'm so sorry," Allan murmured.

"He didn't die. Not right away, at least. He was on the ground, and I tried to run to him, to help him somehow. But one of the men grabbed me. They thought it was funny that Liam had gone so far to protect me. They laughed about it, taunting him as he lay there bleeding. And then he threw me on the ground and ripped my dress off."

Allan's grip on my arms tightened, and his expressions froze on his face.

"They took turns. It hurt. I was so small, and they were grown men. I was crying, and bleeding, and I couldn't stop them. They made Liam watch. He struggled, trying to come to my aid, but that made his wounds open more, and the bleeding got worse. But he never stopped.

"When they were finished with me they left us there. They knew we couldn't follow. Liam was barely holding on, but he still tried to drag himself over to me. I don't know where he found the strength to move at all. But eventually he couldn't. He was still talking to me, though. He asked if I was hurt, but I couldn't answer. He consoled me, comforted me, did everything he could have done, but I could barely look at him. I could only cry."

"You were hurt, and scared," Allan said.

"My brother was lying on the ground, slowly bleeding to death, and I couldn't even bring myself to look at him. Do you know what happened next? He apologized. Like everything was his fault, like I wasn't the one to blame."

"You weren't to blame, it wasn't-"

"I'm the one who got their attention!" I shouted at him. "They would never have known we were there. And I'm the one who was too clumsy to not leave a trail to the house so they could follow us. And I'm the one who couldn't do as she was told and stay put. I got Liam stabbed. And he lay there apologizing to me as the blood was pouring out of his body, and I couldn't even _look_ at him. Couldn't tell him that I still loved him, and didn't blame him, and that I would miss him more than either of us could ever imagine. I just lay there, crying. And eventually he wasn't talking any more. And then he wasn't breathing."

I looked up into his gray eyes. "So the next time you think that your brother didn't know that you loved him when he died, think about that. You weren't there, you couldn't have told him. I was. I could have. And I didn't. And now I have to live with that. So stop trying to fix me. You can't fix me. No one can."


End file.
